Last weekend Jilda and I did our winter chores. We had a long list we wanted to complete before Thanksgiving Day. We had invited family and friends over for “Turkey Day,” and we wanted to make sure the house looked nice. They probably would not have cared that our house was not super spiffy, but we would. We take pride in making the place look homey for our company.
After coffee, I thought about calling in reinforcements. Strong backs for the heavy lifting seemed like a wise course of action. I thought I would bribe them with steaks, beer and exotic vacations in exchange for a few hours of backbreaking labor.
But I remembered Alabama was playing an evening game, and they had managed to score inexpensive tickets. I admit the window of opportunity for the plan was narrow, but I hoped it was doable.
The more I thought about it, the more I realized there was no way those boys would wear themselves out before the game. They are too much like me.
So rather than ask my potential volunteers to work, and hearing them laugh uncontrollably as I call them unkind names without regard to political correctness or any modicum of civility, I decided we would suck it up and do it ourselves.
After coffee, I said to Jilda, “This stuff won't do itself.” So, we commenced.
I dragged the ladders out and washed our floor to ceiling windows. The ceiling on the inside of the house is 14 feet at the apex. Outside it is better than 16. I guess it is close to an acre of glass on the front of our house. After about an hour of rubbing and a few dozen trips up and down the ladder, the windows were spotless.
Then I cleaned our ceiling fan. From the floor, I could see dust bunnies on the blades as big as beagles. I dragged the shop-vac up the ladder and made short work of that chore.
After this, we started on the one I dreaded. The tropical trees and plants that summer outside our front glass have to come inside before the first frost. These include a philodendron that Jilda inherited from her mom, who inherited it from her mom in 1965. So, it has been with Jilda since Lyndon Johnson was in the White House. It is a beast with gnarly roots and leaves as big as hubcaps.
We have not repotted the plants in some time, and when I wrestled the old pots off, I could not see the soil. The only thing visible was a tangled web of roots. When I tried to break them apart, they were as hard as teak. I wound up hacking them apart with my pocket knife.
When I finally managed to break them apart, I could almost hear a sigh of relief. We purchased larger pots and placed the old plants into the new pots with fresh potting soil. They should be happy for a year or two.
Getting the plants inside was a challenge since each of them weigh just slightly less than a piano. But I borrowed some hand trucks from my brother-in-law and began the heavy lifting. Grunting like the front four of the Green Bay Packers on Sunday, we got all plants cozied up inside. These trees are like old friends and make our great room feel like we are outdoors even in the dead of winter.
After supper, I slipped into the TV room to watch the game. It was hard to concentrate because I was so weary that I was nodding out by the end of the third quarter. By the end of the fourth quarter, we were both sound asleep.
Hard work is one of the best sleep aids available.
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Rick Watson is a columnist and author. His latest book Life Changes is available on Amazon.com. You can contact him via email at rick@homefolkmedia.com.
